


Too Sweet Tea

by Kiwi_Strawberry_Banana



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Fights, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Sparring, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22271713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwi_Strawberry_Banana/pseuds/Kiwi_Strawberry_Banana
Summary: skekMal joins urVa by the fire for some tea.
Relationships: skekMal/urVa (Dark Crystal)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Too Sweet Tea

**Author's Note:**

> For Boxheadpaint.

The Endless Forest was fraught with danger at every corner. Any creature that entered had to be prepared for a variety of creatures that could bite, scratch, and coil. From the Gobbles that would eat anything that came close enough, bones and all, to the Cherfas that would imitate young creatures in distress, luring their victims into caves where they may never be seen again.

For all the dangers, however, there was only one that could not be given a proper name.

The Podlings called the creature "Diapipod Avadee", or "Pod Eater". They told stories of family and friends walking mere steps from their homes before never being seen again. Young or old, there was no discrimination.

The Gelfling never agreed on a name, with titles for the creature ranging from simply "The Beast" to "The Shadow of the Endless Forest", but they all agreed that whatever the creature was, it was dangerous. Some parents used stories of "The Beast" to scare their childlings into staying away from the forests. Other Gelfling took the tales much more seriously, some so much so that they never left their village in fear of being the creatures next prey.

Even the various animals that lived within the Endless Forest lived their lives in caution and on the edge, knowing that the most terrifying creature on Thra stalked through the woods, always sniffing about for its next meal.

Now, however, as the third brother entered its zenith, that very creature so very feared by all was sitting by a fire, sneering as it drank from a small cup grasped in its hands, sharp talons leaving thin scratches.

"Too sweet, Archer." It spoke with a voice low and rough, more akin to a growl than actual words.

It was a voice that could only belong to one; The Beast, The Pod Eater, The Shadow of the Endless Forest.

skekMal the Hunter.

The Archer addressed was an old creature sat across from skekMal; while the Hunter was a legend within the woods, the Archer was an unknown, as all his kind were. Once, however, there was a time when he was known to more than just his kind and the Hunter. Back in his youth, the Archer would intermingle with Podling and Gelfling alike, enjoying all the laughter and stories they had to offer. A foolish time, the Archer would say. A foolish time full of foolish decisions.

Even so, urVa the Archer missed those foolish times, back when he would allow himself to live in the moment, enjoy the times for what they were rather than what they may or may not become. Back then, upon hearing his tea was too sweet for the Hunters liking, urVa would have replied with a clever quip, poking fun at the one creature in all of Thra that no others would dare to poke.

But urVa was not in his youth. He was aged, his once long, dark hair having grown white, the deep spirals and grooves on his skin much deeper and more intricate as they wrinkled. Even his steps, ones that could have carried him into a fast gait through the Endless Forest, clear from one end to the other, were now calculated and slow.

So now, rather than respond with a tease or jab, urVa simply took a deep breath in with a longer one out, gently blowing on his own hot tea.

"I won't make it as sweet next time then." He spoke calmly and evenly.

Whether or not the tea was truly too sweet, urVa would never know as the cup he held was swiped from his hands, clattering against the ground. The hot tea sprayed against the earth, soaking into the soil before the cup even touched down.

With an irritated sigh, urVa looked to skekMal, who had leaned forward over the fire, hand still outstretched from the swipe.

"Make it better now." skekMal hissed out, his indignation palpable as he lowered his talons and sat back down.

For over 600 trine, skekMal and urVa had met with one another. Meetings by chance, skekMal would say. For sparring, for stories, for tea even, they would meet with one another. Over the course of those 600 trine, urVa had grown both accustomed to and aware of the Hunters various moods.

Even if urVa served boiled swamp water to skekMal, there was no way the Hunter would knock the Archers own cup out of his hands unless he was angry or upset about something, something more than bad tea.

And when skekMal was upset, there was no tea on all of Thra that would be good enough for him.

"Bad hunt, Skekmal?" urVa spoke as he slowly picked up his discarded cup, turning it around to inspect for cracks.

"No such thing." skekMal spat out, scoffing as urVa studied the cup.

Despite the response, urVa knew he hit close with the way skekMal bristled at the question towards his hunts. Even so, while looking from the cup to skekMal, urVa pondered as to what could be bothering his dark half. Lies and deceit were never becoming of the Hunter, and he couldn't lie to urVa even if he tried. The Archer simply knew him too well.

"What vexes you then?" urVa looked to his bags, slowly tucking his cracked cup back into one of them.

Just watching the Archer move slowly angered skekMal. The less either spoke, the more time skekMal had to look at his other half, look at every new wrinkle where there was once smooth skin, watch as white, wispy hair swayed when it was once dark and colorful.

urVa had aged, as had skekMal. That much the Hunter could accept. It was what that aging had brought along with it that was harder, impossible even, for him to accept.

"Many things, Archer." skekMal spoke, taking another sip of his too sweet tea.

If urVa wanted to know more, he did nothing to show as much. Instead, he gave an acknowledging hum to skekMal as he looked up, gazing at the stars.

Though skekMal growled at the Archers apathy, he found himself also looking up, still sipping his too sweet tea. The last brother had finally set completely and all the stars had begun to blink alive in the sky.

Stargazing was a peaceful pastime, one of the few that skekMal would indulge in. He would say how he gazes at the stars to know their positions, to be able to hunt better at night. And that would be no lie, as the Hunter would use the stars in his hunts when the moonlight and scents failed him. But there was something in gazing at the stars that gave skekMal a sense of calmness, though he would never admit to such a feeling.

Every star, every constellation held a story shared across Thra, shared across the creatures. One constellation shaped in a perfect circle told of a myth of the first Podlings. Another constellation in the shape of a spoon had the story of the first great Gelfling feast behind it.

Stories that urVa would once tell skekMal in earnest, enraptured by how many stories could fill a single sky. skekMal missed those stories, even if he would never admit it.

With a final swig, the too sweet tea was gone and skekMal set his cup down on the ground. Standing, he stretched both sets of arms, growling as his aged bones popped. Upon hearing it, urVa looked to his dark half expectedly, knowing what the Hunter wanted.

urVa began the slow process of removing his bags and his heavy outer garments, keeping on his thinner under set, huffing at the feeling of the cold night air.

skekMal, once he was done stretching, began to remove his own armor and weapons, the clanking of bone rattling against bone intermingling with the sound of the fire in the night. He reached a hand up for his mask before stopping, leaving it on. urVa gave no comment, though he hummed in questioning.

Something was truly amiss with the Hunter; he always removed the mask when they fought.

There was no time for urVa to question skekMal as the sound of snapping twigs and ground dirt from beneath the Skeksis' heels roused him from his thoughts and questions. The Hunter was ready to spar, which meant urVa needed to be ready too.

The first lunge was quick and swift; a wordless announcement that their brawl has begun. The fire swayed and danced as taloned hands reached out, finding themselves grasped by calloused, wrinkled hands. Firm enough to keep the talons at bay, yet soft enough that there would be no bruises, no breaks.

Those calloused hands, once young, once naive in their strength. Back when urVa was not the Archer, but instead was "The Stranger" to skekMal, back when he first fought with the Skeksis, he had accidentally broken skekMals arm, as well as his own. Now, those aged hands grasped taloned ones, heels being pushed in the dirt as the Hunter growled and shoved, illuminated only by the moonlight through the trees and the fire.

Back in their youth, urVa would easily overpower skekMal in any fight. So long ago, before the title of the Hunter was granted to him and he was, instead, the Seeker, spending days suffocating away in the Castle. When skekMal was new and young, back when the itch for The Hunt had no name; same as when urVa had no name, only youth and a strength that intrigued skekMal, drew him in.

Now, that strength meant little more than the spilled tea on the ground. They grappled by the flames, light dancing off of white, wispy hair and a pale bone mask. Those passing by may be intimidated by the fight, but skekMal knew better.

This fight was nothing like their youth, nothing like even a mere hundred trine ago. While skekMal would growl and hiss, swipe with his tail, even dig his talons into urVas thick skin to elicit some response, he would get none. At least, none of the responses he wanted.

The Archer would grunt and groan. He would not swing his tail. He would flinch when talons were dug into his skin, but he did not bite with his dull canines like he did 400 trine ago. urVa did not laugh merrily as he swung skekMal about, throwing him into trees or to the ground like he did 500 trine ago. Instead his movements were calculated, robotic in a sense, without the passion that was once behind them.

When urVa had skekMal pinned beneath him, a sign of victory, the Hunter had a chance to look deep into the Archers eyes. Those old, decrepit brown eyes that once held such a wild spark, those eyes that looked at skekMal with the same dull apathy that they always had anymore.

Perhaps it was those eyes that really set skekMal off. Perhaps it was the memories of what The Archer was once capable of. But whatever it was, something snapped in skekMal as he yelled loudly and thrashed about, slashing at the Mystics arm.

For the first time in a long time, urVa yelled out in pain. It was not loud, as he was never loud nowadays, but it was something; Something enough to make skekMal ignore his own arm, feeling the sting of the cuts upon it as he crawled from under urVa, still determined to keep the fight going.

urVa looked to his arm, seeing the cuts. They were not deep enough that stitching would be needed, but were painful nonetheless. Lowering his arm back to his side, The Archer glowered at The Hunter, who wore a slight, gnarled smile.

"I will not fight you this way, skekMal."

"You will fight me however I choose, Archer."

They circled around one another, around the fire that flickered, creating menacing shadows that danced and threatened across aged skin and old robes.

Once more, skekMal lunged first, only this time he moved with the intent to draw blood as he once did, reminiscent of when their brawls would span until both were too beaten and bloodied to continue. Back when their fights would end in a pained laugh or smile.

Back when their fights had more meaning.

Even now, when under the threat of teeth and talon, urVa did not exert much more effort. There was no need when skekMal became more of a beast than a sparring partner. Every swipe, bite, even every flick of his tail was purely animalistic.

Though skekMal moved like The Beast the Gelfling whispered he was, urVa knew better, as he always did. He could see behind that bone mask, see the cracked wall that skekMal had around himself, that wall that the Hunter thought was so impenetrable.

The Hunters eyes always gave him away, always allowed a glimpse behind that cracked wall.

And it was with a glimpse that urVa could see that his dark half was desperate for more than a fight.

Another swipe that had talons digging into his arm was enough for urVa, however. If he didn't stop skekMal soon, the Hunter was going to seriously injure both of them, and they were just too old for that. When the Hunter lunged again, rather than dodging, the Archer instead braced himself. Once close enough, he grabbed tightly on to skekMals wrists and flipped him over.

skekMal landed belly down on the ground, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Despite the impact that was felt between the both of them, urVa wasted no time straddling himself over skekMals back, using his heavy weight against the Skeksis while holding down all four of his arms.

Once skekMal had a second to breath, he began to yell and thrash about, demanding the Archer get off of him, protesting that the fight was not yet over. He even tried to whip his tail against the Mystics back, still uncaring for the injuries that he would suffer as well, only to feel urVa twist his own tail around the wailing appendage.

That got skekMal to still. Twisting tails was an intimate gesture, nearly as intimate as mating was. Over the 600 trine they had met up with one another, both could only count on one hand how many times their tails had twisted, and even then it hadn't happened in the past 300 trine.

Yet here they both were, over 700 trine old, urVa holding skekMal down in the very same way he had when they first sparred together. Only now, urVa wasn't jesting with skekMal, commenting on his lack of fighting skills. skekMal wasn't lying on the ground in awe of The Stranger who seemed so soft and weak, yet who so easily beat him, a Skeksis.

"Are you calm now, skekMal?" urVa spoke above him, panting softly from the fight.

"Never." skekMal spoke with no bite, still not struggling.

With tails still intertwined, urVa slowly rested the rest of his body on skekMals, releasing his arms. skekMal still did not struggle, nor did he try to push urVa off. Instead, he reached a hand up, one still smelling of the blood of his other half, and removed his mask, setting it to the side.

urVa gave no comment, though he hummed in approval.

The two rested, illuminated only by the glow of the soft fire and moonlight through the trees. The Stranger had bested The Shadow of the Endless Forest and using the creature for a bed. The Shadow didn't seem to mind being bested, though he would surely slaughter any who would make such a comment.

The Hunter felt slow, even breathing on his back, and smelled blood that was both his and not his. urVas hand rested next to his head, one finger slowly tapping at the dirt. A hand that was calloused and old, yet still the Archers.

"You're old, Archer." skekMal huffed, finding it harder to breathe with the Mystics full weight on him.

"We are both old, skekMal." urVa adjusted himself when he noticed skekMal struggling to breathe.

A huff was all the Hunter had to say to the Archers response. skekMal knew they were both old. He had known that the first time his hands had begun to look withered, when his joints began to ache more, when unum long hunts were becoming harder to do.

Most of all though, skekMal saw it first hand every time he encountered the Archer. skekMal saw when urVas steps began to get slower, the first time his once dark hair had a single white one strand, when that tenacity that urVa once had became nothing more than regret and an aloofness to all that happens around him.

"You have changed." skekMal spoke, licking at the wounds on his arm.

"And you try not to." urVa responded, ignoring his wounds.

There was no reason for skekMal to change, he felt. He was capable, strong; stronger, at least, than those in the Castle of the Crystal that do little more than squeal and flap their beaks. Yes, he was strong, so much so that the hunts he would go on were proving less and less challenging, even with his age. Even the greatest beasts fell with ease at his blade.

The last hunt he went on, right before the current meeting with urVa, skekMal had taken down a large beast three times his size. It had taken only a day of tracking, and one more of fighting before the large beast fell, its green blood soaking into the ground.

Back in his youth, such a hunt would have taken skekMal an unum at least, if not longer. He would have been lucky to escape such a battle with only a broken arm or a new scar, back when his body was fresh.

Now, skekMal had barely a scrape from the creature, and even if he had been scarred, the scar he would have gotten would have simply intermingled with all the other ones he had. Scars that no longer held the same pride they once did when skekMal was still fresh enough to not lose count of all the injuries he had sustained on his hunts.

It was when he had finished with the skinning and carving away all the meat that skekMal realized that he was simply doing so out of instinct, apathetically. Carving away at the beast he had slain with the same emotion he saw urVa show in their every meeting.

Yes, it was aging that the Hunter could accept. What he could not accept was living his life apathetically, without the thrill that the hunt once brought, the thrill that was slowly dying.

The thrill that skekMal was keeping alive at all costs, even if the Hunter resorted to crueler measures, even if urVa looked at him with that apathetic gaze when skekMal told the stories of his hunts, the gaze filled with nothing but guilt and disappointment.

"Do you regret having met me, Archer?"

The question was out before skekMal could stop it. The question found its way through the crack in the wall he had built around himself and was presented before urVa, before The Stranger, before the one creature on Thra that, even at his lowest, has never lost skekMals respect.

Not now, not ever.

urVa didn't respond right away. Instead, he took a deep breath in, slowly and evenly, taking a moment to mill the question around in his head before speaking.

"I regret what I have taught you. But I have never regretted meeting you, skekMal."

Neither said anything for the remainder of the night. If someone questioned skekMal if he had smiled at what urVa said, he would surely skin them where they stood.

At some point, urVas hand found its way atop skekMals head, gently stroking the ridges. If it were any other creature, they would have lost their hand already. If urVa ever mentioned how skekMal purred quietly while having his head stroked, the Hunter would cut off the Archers own hand, consequences be damned.

The fire was nothing more than embers when sleep claimed the two, their tails still intertwined. urVa rested at skekMals side, one old, calloused hand still resting on top of the Hunters head.

Both awoke without a word when the first brother began to rise over the horizon, sunlight hitting their eyes for them to join the waking world. They laid there, neither saying anything as their tails slowly loosened apart. skekMal found that his tail felt cold without his other halfs twisted with it. He would never admit to it, nor would the Archer say that he felt the same.

They stood, bodies popping as they stretched. urVa finally tended to his arm while skekMal left his alone. Armor and weapons were found and then put on, the clatter of bone against bone disrupting the quiet morning. urVa handed skekMal his white bone mask, which the Hunter accepted with a small growl as thanks.

Both departed without a goodbye, even skekMals usual snarls and insults being lost in his throat before he can even utter them.

When they meet once more, by chance in the Endless Forest nearly an unum later, skekMal sits once more by the fire and complains about urVas too sweet tea.

The Beast of the Endless Forest will still drink it all anyways.


End file.
